


Some Like It Hot, But I Like It Wet

by Pink_and_Velvet



Series: Because BOYS On Film Look Better [13]
Category: Duran Duran
Genre: Album: Notorious (Duran Duran), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Developing Relationship, Frolicking, Love Bites, M/M, Pool, Pool Sex, Stress Relief, Three To Get Ready, Touring, exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25548379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: Nowthisis exercise.
Relationships: Simon Le Bon/John Taylor (Duran Duran)
Series: Because BOYS On Film Look Better [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2075265
Comments: 9
Kudos: 14





	Some Like It Hot, But I Like It Wet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tambsi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tambsi/gifts), [TechnicolourRomantics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnicolourRomantics/gifts).



> Inspired by the lovely pool scene in _Three To Get Ready _, though hopefully you can imagine this in colour!__

_1987_

_Don’t hesitate, just donate... semen._

Hopping foot to foot, the scorching stones burning, he punctuated each little hop with a ‘heh’; voicing how damn excited he was. Scooting over, straight past Simon, John tossed his towel and submerged himself deep into the inky water, with a groan.

“Feels great, ‘eh?” John asked, swishing about the pool.

“More than,” his singer replied, tossing his golden locks back and floating.

Together they paddled about, tossing water at each other and laughing as the water came raining down all around them. John stayed close to the side, with an eye on his towel, realising now that it was a little further from the poolside than he would’ve wanted it to be.

With a frown, he put two and two together: he’d have to get back out to collect the so-called ‘special’ items calling for him.

“We could use some exercise.” Simon’s gruff voice bought him out of his trance.

Nodding, John paddled over to Simon. Grinning like a twat, he clutched the singer’s damp shoulder and shoved him down. Then giggling like a twat, Simon bobbed back up and sent John plunging under.

“Oh, it’s on!” John chuckled, brushing the water from his eyes and heavy fringe from his face.

Within moments they were a tangle of limbs, nipping and grabbing at soggy skin; both determined to stay afloat.

“Charlie, cut it… cut it out!” John spat, as a huge wave bought about from nowhere pelted him. “Christ!” He cackled.

Sneaking up on his side, treading water lightly, Simon’s huge hands clasped around John’s bony middle.

Tickling him, raking his nails all over John’s pasty skin, Simon breathed: “ _exercise_ , huh?”

Now back flush with Simon’s chest, the singer so agonisingly close and panting softly into John’s neck; he shivered. Throwing his head backwards, exposing the column of his neck, John groaned softly as Simon pressed his words into it.

“Don’t be so circumscribed, are you gonna _do_ it?”

A teeny chuckle escaped the bassist’s lips. A cackle followed, John slipping free from Simon’s grip. Smirking, back now pressed against the poolside, they locked eyes. John’s hands slipped away, snaking down his own legs; lost in the endless ripples and whirls of water. The smirk grew wider, more teasing as back up they came; swimming trunks in hand.

“I want to multiply, are _you_ gonna do it?”

Simon’s jaw dropped, eyebrow raising to a naughty degree.

“I know you won’t be satisfied, until _we_ do it.” John winked.

He tossed the trunks far, flinging them off of one finger, eyes not caring to follow where they went. Instead, he kept his gaze locked onto the naughty glimmer in the beaming blues before him.

A hasty hand sent itself down, plummeting into the blue. John watched, panting slightly, as Simon did the same.

“Hey, Charlie!” He spat, Simon delightfully having chosen to fling his swimming trunks into John’s face.

John caught a whiff. The scent of Simon wasn’t dulled, to him, by that of the chlorine. Only enhanced, his pulse soaring, _things_ rising and brain turning to mush. Wanting to drink it up.

He peeled the soaked fabric from his face, tossing it far.

Then, his eyes widened comically. “Crap.”

“Crap what, Johnny?”

Sending his gaze over to his towel, John pointed with a slight grimace. Simon was quick to pick up on what John was laying down.

“Oh, you big baby,” Simon paddled straight over, bumping his shoulder.

Without a care in the world for who saw them, or for John giggling at his backside, Simon clambered out of the pool. Not very gracefully. John was met with a face full of his arse, slapping it as the soaked tan skin breached the surface.

“Watch it, I might just pounce!” Simon followed through with a small roar, John sniggered.

John concentrated heavily on Simon’s nude figure, who was surely waggling his ass more than necessary as he fetched their things. He was mildly aware that any of the crew could catch them at any moment. Then, every thought was wiped from his mind as he was soaked again: Simon’s canon ball drenching him.

“For the love of, uh, _agh!_ ”

John was immediately ambushed. Picked up and turned around, tossed over the side. Simon’s lips planted themselves to his neck, John was gasping for air as a hot trail of bites and licks coated his pasty flesh. Pushing back into Simon, groaning, he caught a hold of him and pumped Simon to life. Not that Simon needed much encouragement.

“C’mon, Charlie, stick ‘em in me,” he whined, hips buckling backwards so they dug into the cut grooves of Simon’s own.

Clutching to the side, losing purchase on the side; John almost slipped under as Simon’s digits made contact: spreading him and drawing throaty whine after whine.

“ _Fuck!_ ” He bellowed, squirming under Simon’s hands. “Harder, goddamnit.”

With a scoff, Simon pulled his fingertips out all the way. With a cry, they were shoved back into John, hard, rearranging his insides the further in they prodded.

“B- _better_ ,” John breathed, knuckles white as they clasped the poolside.

Slipping himself free, John whined at the loss of contact. Shivering, he tossed Simon the foil and moaned as he heard the rip: small sound booming in his ears. Simon spat it out, John didn’t bother to look where, only tugging at himself as Simon slipped it on and shoved John up higher.

Member brushing agonisingly against the pool side, John’s whole body convulsed as they breeched the surface, then plopped back down; shoving himself onto Simon with a shriek.

“Fuckin’… _Christ!_ ” John slammed his head back against Simon, needing to feel every inch of him, before he moved.

Nodding, John pushed off. Hands braced on the side, leg cocked and head bowed: he buckled backwards, sending Simon in all the way.

They weren’t quiet about it. John asked for fast so Simon obeyed. John asked for rough so Simon teased him, bullied him into submission: thrusts and slapping of skin barely dulled in the water. John was whining, cursing, crying out, slamming himself into Simon harder; taking in as much as he could, desperate to feel every angle and soak up every inch.

Groaning, hips rutting in time, they both were being drawn into delirium by the pleasure spreading between them. Flowing through them, filling John’s aching veins with a whole new drug: Simon being the serotonin he needed to survive.

Jackhammering into John now, muffling grunts into his shoulder blade, John was the first to be sent raging over the edge. Unable to stifle his cries, flopping straight over the poolside, going limp under Simon’s body. Within moments the singer followed, toppling down above him, slumping over John as they desperately fought for breath.

John’s skin was plastered in bites.

With a grunt, wrapping Simon’s arms around him, John practically fell off of him: the water making the exit less painful.

His skin was littered in scratches.

Immediately, John whirled around, bobbing over to Simon. Wrapping his lengthy limbs around the singer’s chest, John buried his face in his neck.

His knuckles were white from having grabbed the poolside so hard.

Little salty kisses graced Simon’s skin, John’s fingertips running up into the soggy mess that was Simon’s gleaming golden hair.

Pulling himself up once more, they were face to face. John was first to break the ice, sealing his lips onto Simon’s. Eyes dropping closed, he let Simon thread his hands into John’s shaggy brown hair; angling him to meet Simon’s liking. John let him, lips parting beautifully.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @duranarchy-in-the-uk  
> ❤️


End file.
